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It started with a grape...
"Sure, he's fit, the exhibitionist. What about me?" Asmodeus had made his own adjustments, and Delilah blinked when she turned to face him. If Anthos looked extravagant, then Asmodeus looked as though extravagance were an informality; the ease with which he carried off his silken draperies made the most ethereal lady look clumsy with her train. He transformed a paladin's dress regalia into an understatement. Delilah subdued her sudden fit of jealousy and consoled herself with the thought that at least she had pretty rocks in her ensemble; the opals, amethyst, labradorite and tourmalines in her armbands alone would pay for five of Asmodeus's outfits... Ah, but he had bought the materials for the armband, hadn't he?
Well, at least she'd made it herself. The advantages of less-than-noble birth included the acquisition of serviceable skills, before one was petted and spoiled into uselessness. Delilah took some measure of pride in the amusements with which she filled her royal hours. If 'Deus ran the estate and Anthos provided the means, her position as a figurehead allowed her some lenience in budgeting her time, for indulgences in art, both creative, as the jewelry, and supportive, such as this gala.
The wrought-brass stage door loomed from across the room, its fire-lit polish reflected in the cool marble and diffused by the velvet strewn about. Delilah considered it one of the advantages of a relatively small headquarters: almost every room let off on to the stage, or at least the theater. This one, in which they'd done everything from sleep off a demanding concert to read companionably to primp for yet another appearance, was no exception. The door was the least inconspicuous of them all, opening straight on to the middle of the performance area. An entrance through Door Plios had better be a grand one.
Asmodeus was the master of grand entrances. The intensity of fourteen limelights and a mirror-focused candelabra threw him into a shining relief against the black of the audience.The prominence of the symbolic medallion he wore (hand-beaten gold with aquamarine inlay, and quite well-crafted if Delilah might say so herself) was accentuated by the light-swallowing depth of the colors in the silk over which it lay. Delilah could tell the audience was captivated by the swinging golden symbol as 'Deus gave a deep bow and introduced himself and his purpose.
Still, if Asmodeus was master of the grand entrance, Anthos was the god. No one could upstage him against his will. They were quite the pair of foils to each other, Delilah thought, peering out Door Plios and awaiting her cue. Anthos, in his glittering, brilliant, near-blinding glory, and Asmodeus with his exquisite, refined, dark elegance, provided a contrast to each other that made their separate presences so effective.
"Sure, he's fit, the exhibitionist. What about me?" Asmodeus had made his own adjustments, and Delilah blinked when she turned to face him. If Anthos looked extravagant, then Asmodeus looked as though extravagance were an informality; the ease with which he carried off his silken draperies made the most ethereal lady look clumsy with her train. He transformed a paladin's dress regalia into an understatement. Delilah subdued her sudden fit of jealousy and consoled herself with the thought that at least she had pretty rocks in her ensemble; the opals, amethyst, labradorite and tourmalines in her armbands alone would pay for five of Asmodeus's outfits... Ah, but he had bought the materials for the armband, hadn't he?
Well, at least she'd made it herself. The advantages of less-than-noble birth included the acquisition of serviceable skills, before one was petted and spoiled into uselessness. Delilah took some measure of pride in the amusements with which she filled her royal hours. If 'Deus ran the estate and Anthos provided the means, her position as a figurehead allowed her some lenience in budgeting her time, for indulgences in art, both creative, as the jewelry, and supportive, such as this gala.
The wrought-brass stage door loomed from across the room, its fire-lit polish reflected in the cool marble and diffused by the velvet strewn about. Delilah considered it one of the advantages of a relatively small headquarters: almost every room let off on to the stage, or at least the theater. This one, in which they'd done everything from sleep off a demanding concert to read companionably to primp for yet another appearance, was no exception. The door was the least inconspicuous of them all, opening straight on to the middle of the performance area. An entrance through Door Plios had better be a grand one.
Asmodeus was the master of grand entrances. The intensity of fourteen limelights and a mirror-focused candelabra threw him into a shining relief against the black of the audience.The prominence of the symbolic medallion he wore (hand-beaten gold with aquamarine inlay, and quite well-crafted if Delilah might say so herself) was accentuated by the light-swallowing depth of the colors in the silk over which it lay. Delilah could tell the audience was captivated by the swinging golden symbol as 'Deus gave a deep bow and introduced himself and his purpose.
Still, if Asmodeus was master of the grand entrance, Anthos was the god. No one could upstage him against his will. They were quite the pair of foils to each other, Delilah thought, peering out Door Plios and awaiting her cue. Anthos, in his glittering, brilliant, near-blinding glory, and Asmodeus with his exquisite, refined, dark elegance, provided a contrast to each other that made their separate presences so effective.
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